BACK AT HQ, Evelyn made a beeline for the yoga studio, while Jacob and I headed to our office—ouroffice?—to add to the ever-growing pile of digital paperwork on the Boswell case. Which I wasn’t so sure was even about Boswell anymore, but the repeater in the bedroom. Though I kept that bit to myself.
Since my hunt-and-peck typing is painful to watch, we figured out a way for me to dictate the case notes while Jacob typed. It was more hands-on than I usually was with Carl, where I’d just say things like, “Be sure to mention I got it,” and he’d handle the rest. But it was a definite step up from Jacob disappearing the moment grunt work reared its head.
“Is this anything like old times?” I asked as he sent our report off into the ethers. “I’m no Carolyn, obviously…but maybe you miss being a Stiff.”
Jacob sat back and steepled his hands as he gave it some thought. His eyes went soft as he considered the question. “Field work will always be my first love. You never know what the interviews will throw at you—and I’m always up for the challenge. And spending more time with you is never a bad thing.”
I sensed a “but.” Because if Laura decided to make him my permanent Carl, it would be pretty big demotion from hiscurrent position in Internal Affairs. All over one “satisfactory” review?
“But we shouldn’t get used to it,” Jacob said, as if he’d read my mind. Not in a telepathic way…just in a married way. “My team is already complaining that none of them can take a long weekend with me out chasing leads.”
“Tell them to get in line. I’ve been trying to take a long weekend with you since Christmas.” Brave words. I just hoped Jacob wasn’t up for said big demotion…one that would technically make me his permanent boss.
Luckily, his ego was such that I could do the worrying for both of us. He stood and stretched, and said, “Why don’t we head to the yoga studio and see if some downward dogs shake any ideas loose?”
Now I was the one doing the married mind reading, because Jacob had never once suggested more yoga. “If you keep stalking Evelyn like this, she’s gonna have to file a restraining order.”
He blanched. “I’m not stalking her.”
“Listen,” I said—as much for Jacob’s benefit as the surveillance devices that no doubt surrounded us. “I know you’re a big fan of tech, but there’s not a psychic bone in your body, and it does you zero good since there’s nothing there for it to amplify.” I held his gaze for an extra moment with a look that said,Got it, mister?
He narrowed his eyes. “Someone should keep an eye on her after that interview. She looked pretty shaken up. Besides, I want National to know we’re cooperating with them.”
“Fine,” I said. But only because my sciatica felt naggy…only to be summoned to the director’s office by a call from Laura on my way to the studio. “We’ll be right there,” I told her.
“Just you,” Laura said. “I only need to meet with you.”
I did my best not to wince. That “satisfactory” rating was worse than I’d thought. But Jacob put on a stiff upper lip and said, “You know where to find me,” and headed off for yoga without breaking stride.
I’d have the boss’s ear—in private. Should I say something? I might be the lead on this investigation, but any praise I gave Jacob would only be negated by the fact that we were married. Besides, I didn’t want to make things worse by calling attention to him. Especially since he was doing such a halfhearted job because he was so busy salivating over those SPECs.
I found Laura in her dingy little office, pen in hand, tapping on a notepad covered in random loop-de-loop doodles. Laura does everything digitally. The notepad is her equivalent of a thinking cap. And judging by the density of the scribbles, she was thinking hard.
“Let me get this straight,” she said without any preamble. “Presuming your repeater pre-dated Boswell’s tenancy, chances are, Dombrowski and Sledge slept in the same room with it for months, none the wiser.”
“Unless someone died there between tenants,” I said. I almost said,And people wander through repeaters all the time.But that would only freak Laura out. “To be fair, the repeater was really hard to spot. Even for me.”
Laura impatiently waved that observation away. “And what about this line in your report:Ms. Dombrowski’s appearancehad significantly changed since her social media photos were taken.”
What I’d said was that she hardly looked like the Instagram girl, and Jacob had neutralized the language so as not to jump to any conclusions about how or why she’d changed. Laura’s reaction, though, was hardly neutral.
“She did scale back on the makeup,” I admitted.
“Did she?” Laura asked. “Or was that even Sarah Dombrowski you were talking to?”
“No, it was definitely her. You can tell by the nose.”
“That’s not what I mean, Vic. I’m saying, what if she’s a medium…and what if whoever died in that apartment is possessing her now?”
While leaving a repeater behind at the scene? It’s not impossible for a death to result in both a repeater and a ghost. Unlikely? Very. I’d only ever encountered it once before. But not impossible.
What we think of as a ghost is someone’s etheric form, but there are other subtle bodies. The astral, for instance, that can go gallivanting around in your sleep and leave you with crazy dreams. The other bodies were even more “subtle”—I didn’t have a name for them, and had only glimpsed them on heavy-duty psyactives. But all us humans are a bunch of nesting dolls filled with various iterations of ourselves.
“I guess it’s possible,” I finally said.
“I’ve sent a car to her employer and requested she come down to the office. I want you to question her again, with theprimary focus of determining there’s not a stowaway in her body.”
Possession hardly ever happens…but I’d never say as much aloud to the woman whose finger pulled a lethal trigger thanks to the late Dr. Chance.
